The Mayor of Howlfair

RAIN THREATENED BUT NEVER ARRIVED. THE sky over Howlfair Old Cemetery remained clear and white and fresh as laundered linen. Three generations of Thompsons stood on five legs (seven if you count Molly’s crutches as legs) at the grave of David Nathaniel Thompson. They laid flowers, which the breeze ruffled – much like Mr Thompson, in happier times, had liked to ruffle Molly’s messy hair. Lowry remained at a respectful distance, swinging from the low branch of a tree. Eventually, Grandma Thompson spoke.

“He’s not here, is he?”

Mum looked at her. “What?”

Gran yawned. “He’s not here. Molly was right all along. This is just a stone. David’s spirit is somewhere else.”

Molly cocked her head. “It’s a nice stone,” she said, “as far as stones go.”

Mum thought it over. “I’m sure he appreciates fresh flowers,” she said. “And I bet he gets a kick out of the fact that Molly is wearing one of his atrocious tee-shirts.”

They headed home, Molly and her best friend (or best human friend) trailing Molly’s mum and gran, making their way slowly down the hill through the graveyard, Lowry still limping from her sprain.

“Quick question, Thompson,” said Lowry. “What’s happened to Carl Grobman?”

Molly frowned. “I haven’t seen him. He’s still staying with Mr Wetherill, but I think he’s avoiding me. I suppose we’ll see him at school in the autumn.”

“And Furlock?”

“Haven’t seen him either.”

“Thank God,” said Lowry. “Maybe we scared him off for good.” She chewed her top lip. “And do you think Mr Wetherill’s going to find out how your dad did that thing to Furlock’s hand? Why it looked like it was made of glass?”

“If he doesn’t, I will,” said Molly. “But first I’m going to take a break from investigations. Just until I’ve got two working legs.”

There were cheers from the streets below. Apparently the mayoral results had been announced early.

“Let’s go and find out who our mayor is,” said Molly.

Lowry smirked.

“Why are you smirking?”

“Because you’re smiling,” said Lowry.

“And what’s so funny about that?”

Lowry shrugged. “I’m just not used to it, that’s all.”